


Gordian Knot

by killabeez



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Season/Series 03, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-01
Updated: 2007-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killabeez/pseuds/killabeez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both know how it is, long before anything happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gordian Knot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for eponin10 for the first kiss meme.

They both know how it is, long before anything happens. Sam figures it out and puts a name to it first, somewhere between the endless three days Dean's in the hospital in South Dakota and the awful week that follows, when all he wants is to stand between Dean and everything that might try to hurt him, anyone who might trespass against things they don't understand. He figures it out lying awake in the dark those long nights at Bobby's house, the pieces sliding together inside him like letters on a ouija board, spelling out a truth he should have seen coming.

It doesn't do him any good, of course. It doesn't help anything. Dean's still his brother and he's still made of iron and silver and steel under his brittle rage and grief, and no matter how much Sam aches to fix this, to fix them, there's no way he can fool himself that what he wants would be any kind of answer.

The worst part is, Dean wouldn't stop him. That's what does stop him, every time: Dean's already too tangled up with Sam as it is. Sam's known that since he was old enough to understand that there's nothing Dean wouldn't do for him, not one thing in this world or any other Dean wouldn't give for him if he could. Sam wishes he was selfless enough to chafe as much as he should under the weight of that, but the truth is he's lived with that certainty his whole life, a current of strength and love as deep and all-consuming as a river, and even when he's busy trying his best to keep something of himself free, it's hard to imagine Dean ever really letting go.

The more he thinks about it, the more sure he is that Dean wouldn't stop him. But Dean never once had a choice where Sam was concerned, not since he was four years old, and Sam won't take this last choice away from him. He still hopes that one day this will all be over, and there will be some kind of life for them where Dean can have something he wants, that he chooses, not just what's been left to him; where Dean can have a family, a life that isn't just trying to hold on to things that keep getting taken away.

Dean being Dean, it takes him a little longer. The sex thing is a bigger deal for him, for one thing, and it's only during the long month they spend cooped up looking for Ava Wilson that he finally admits to himself that he thinks about Sam's sex life way more than most guys would consider normal—more even than Sam knows.

It gets worse once he does admit it. And it's tangled up with everything else he doesn't want to deal with: Dad's warning and the demon virus and Sam splitting on him in the middle of the night and almost dying, almost fucking dying. It's like something switched over in him when he felt that blast of splinters and heat, and he can't help it, he wants to touch Sam all the time now, just to make sure. He doesn't even know if this was there all along and he was in denial, or what.

It doesn't matter. Sam is his brother, his little brother, for Christ's sake. Dean knows how fucking lonely Sam is, how long it's been for him, and it's because of Dean that he can never go back to that normal life he wanted. It's because of Dean that their dad is dead and all Sam has is a laptop computer and a gun and a brother who wants to get him naked and do things to him that would make their dad sick if he knew. It doesn't even matter that maybe Sam wants those things, too. Dean can't let it matter. It's his job to protect Sam and if that means protecting him from this, he goddamn will if it kills him.

That's what he tells himself. That's what he holds on to when Sam's drunk and pleading with him and touching him, telling Dean with his eyes and his mouth and his body that it doesn't have to be this way. That he'd open up like a puzzle box if Dean only let him, if Dean laid one hand on him and let it happen. He can't. He can't because Sam said _you have to let me go my own way,_ and Dean knows he meant it. He can't because if he does, he doesn't think he'll be able to stop.

They go on like this, both of them knowing, neither of them able to do anything about it, and in the end, none of the reasons become less true. Sam knows more than ever that Dean's given him all he has, that he's given away every piece of himself until there's nothing left, and that he'd do it again. Dean knows more than ever that Sam is the one thing he's done right and that there's no cost he won't pay to protect him, to save him, not a fucking price in this world he won't pay.

None of that's changed, Sam thinks as he climbs out of his bed in the darkness, but everything else has. Dean has a year and Sam has nothing but his love for his brother and his absolute refusal to accept that sentence. Hell may want him but Sam wants him more; that much he knows. And he'll bind Dean to him, to this life, any way and every way he can.

"It's okay, it's just me," he says, slipping under the covers. Dean's warm, but he shivers when Sam's body slides against his, his breath catching. He wasn't asleep.

"Sam—"

Sam shakes his head, close against Dean's, breath ghosting over his ear. He kisses him there, pressing his lips to the soft hollow just above his cheekbone; Dean's rigid beneath him, and Sam thinks he can feel Dean's heart pounding hard against his ribs, but it's hard to tell if that's Dean, or him. Dean's solid and strong against him, and it hits him hard, how long he's wanted this, and how badly.

He slides a thigh between Dean's and buries his fingers in Dean's hair, tilting his head up so he can rub his face against the rough angle of Dean's jaw. "Is this okay?"

Dean makes a faint sound, choked off. He turns his face against Sam's; one hand comes up, knotting in Sam's shirt. Sam pulls him close without thinking. He'll let go if Dean asks him to, he will—but he's pretty sure Dean's with him on this. They're still wearing sweats and T-shirts but he can feel the way their bodies fit together and it's good, it's so fucking good, just like he knew it would be. "Dean," he says, his heart so full he can't breathe.

And Dean shudders and lets out a breath, hand coming up to spread warm against Sam's throat. "Yeah," he whispers. He shifts, turns his face up and pulls Sam's head down—and then his mouth is there, his breath is Sam's, and Sam holds on and touches his tongue to Dean's and gives him everything, everything he has to give.


End file.
